


like real people do

by drinkingstars



Category: Actor RPF, Cruel Summer (TV) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Rocketman (2019) RPF, Scottish Actor RPF, Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Facetime, Fluff and Smut, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys, Succession the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29296896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkingstars/pseuds/drinkingstars
Summary: “It’ll get easier,” Richard finally says, so quietly it’s barely there, a private promise in a curl of smoke.
Relationships: Froy Gutierrez/Richard Madden
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	like real people do

**Day One**

“Hi. Hi...what...time…”

“Babe?”

“Yeah. Why am I...oh.”

“You wanted me to wake you up.”

“I did? Why...yeah, tha’s right. Oh. Mornin, love.”

“Hi, oh god you’re so grumbly when you wake up, I miss you.”

“Yeah. Miss you. Fuck is it really time to wake up?”

“You told me 5:30. It’s 11:30 here. I’m trying to stay awake.”

“Ah. You...mmmm. Miss you.”

“I miss you so much.” Froy’s voice cracks, and he pauses, forces down a quiver. He doesn’t want Richard to hear him cry, not to start off his morning. “Are you up? You said you wanted to work out early.”

There’s a rustle of a speaker against sheets and pillows. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll get up. Fuck, Froy.”

“Yeah. Fuck.”

“You get some sleep,” Richard says, a sharp inhalation punctuating the end of the sentence. Froy feels his lip tremble.

“Yeah, I um.” He squeezes back the tears. “I’m going to do that. And we’ll talk tomorrow. Or tonight. Or whatever.” He strains his ears, listens for Richard’s feet on the floor, for his chest to fill with air as he stretches awake.

Richard sniffs once and Froy closes his eyes, lets the tears fall from the corners. “It’ll get easier,” Richard says.

“I know.” Froy’s voice cracks, gives him away. He can’t play it off, so he doesn’t try. “I love you,” he says, his voice broken.

“I love you so much. Try to sleep, ok?”

“Give me something nice. To think about.” He curls around his phone, rests his head softly on his pillow.

“Ok, love. Think about…” Richard pauses, takes a long breath. Froy can hear his mind working. “Think about our walk in the woods. That day it snowed.”

“Mmmmmm. That was nice,” Froy says, his eyes softening despite his tears.

“And we took that whole long trail and didn’t see anyone else. And the snow on those red leaves. And the sun was so pretty on your face and I wished I had my camera.”

Froy’s face relaxes, remembering the day. “We found that little waterfall. It was almost frozen over. The bubbles froze,” he says slowly, letting the peaceful feeling wash over him.

“And our noses were so cold, you were _so_ cold. But I just kept kissin’ you and kissin’ you, ‘cause no one was around.”

“Mmmm. Yes.” Froy remembers Richard's lips on his, both of them shivering, reaching inside each other’s coats to get closer, as close as they could.

“You go to sleep now. You’ll have good dreams.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you sweetheart.”

“Love you so much.”

“Hasta pronto,” Richard says carefully, his accent soft and round.

Froy sighs, heavy and sleepy as he lays his phone aside. “Hasta pronto.”

**Day Two**

_I’m home again. Miss your face x_

Froy’s phone chimes in his pocket and he apologizes for moving around in the chair to get it out. Rey pauses with his brush and waits, rolling his eyes behind his face shield.

_my face is getting my makeup on it. face time?_

Froy writes back, pleased with his lazy pun, not bad for how early in the morning it is. A few seconds later his phone lights up in his hand. Froy grins.

“Hi baby,” he says, syrupy sweet as Richard’s end of the video call connects.

“Oh, it’s _el novio,_ ” Rey says, brushing something on Froy’s jawline while Froy figures out where to hold the phone so it’s not in his way.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Richard says and Froy feels his cheeks flush with color on their own. “Good morning, uh…”

“That’s Rey,” Froy helps, smiling at Richard like an idiot.

“Hello Rey, thank you for your service,” Richard says. He’s in a good mood, Froy thinks, and he’s happy.

“Hi there, I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you, didn’t even know you existed,” Rey says chirpily then turns to the makeup table to pick out some other kind of highlighting powder.

“That sounds fake, but ok, nice to meet you,” Richard laughs, then focuses, just his soft eyes on the screen settling on Froy’s, Froy looking back at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Froy says, tilts his head fondly, just looking at him. “Miss you,” he whispers, his lips pursing.

Richard juts his chin up and nods, a subtle movement. “Miss you too. Had a good day here,” he says, turning to squint into the faint London sun, and Froy realizes he’s outside.

“Aren’t you freezing?”

Richard somewhat guiltily holds up his lit cigarette. “I’m fine. Did you sleep?”

Froy shifts again in the chair, furrows his brow. “Yeah, I think so. Not as much as I need, but.”

Richard nods again, stares into Froy’s eyes, just looking. His face softens and he takes a drag off his smoke. Froy misses him like an ache, even the smell of his cigarettes. “It’ll get easier,” Richard finally says, so quietly it’s barely there, a private promise in a curl of smoke.

Froy swallows, takes a deep breath and sighs. He is not going to cry in this makeup. “Tell me, well…” Froy starts then glances up at Rey, a small angled brush tapping up and out from the corners of his eyes. “Something about your day,” he finishes.

Rey steps back and looks him over. “You’re so almost done. Let me set your brows and you can get the hell out of here and talk about whatever you want,” he says with a wink. Froy smiles and looks down at Richard sweetly, waits for the brush of brow gel.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Richard says softly on the phone and Froy blushes again. “Isn’t he gorgeous?” Richard says, intentionally a little louder so Rey can hear, and Froy gasps in surprise. He tries not to laugh too hard and mess up Rey’s steady hand, but Rey barely notices. 

“Hmm? Oh, him? Yeah he’s alright,” Rey chuckles at Richard over the phone, shrugging his shoulder. He finishes and steps back as Richard balks in an uproar of Scottish R’s.

“Alright? _Alright?_ That’s the most gorgeous man you’ll ever see right there,” Richard insists, scrunching up his nose in amusement.

Froy just shakes his head. “Oh my god, stop,” he laughs, and Rey puts his tools down and carefully puts Froy’s face shield back up, steps away and ushers him toward the door.

“Get out of here before I gag. Nice to not meet or see you, mystery boyfriend,” he says as Froy stands and heads out of the trailer.

“Bye Rey,” Richard says distantly around an exhalation of smoke.

“Thank you,” Froy mouths as he leaves. Rey shrugs and zips his fingertips across the path of his lips, behind his three layers of face covering.

“Ok let’s go...over here,” Froy says, casting a look up and down the set. The row of cast trailers is a bit of a walk, and he wants to stay closer by video village in case someone calls him. Plus, it’s absolutely freezing. He spots an empty table under a heat lamp at craft services, and sits down with his phone. “Hi, that’s better. I love you, you’re ridiculous,” Froy grins at him once he’s settled.

“I love you, I don’t care if _Rey_ knows,” Richard says, smugly tilting his jaw forward again. Froy loves his face. _Fuck_ this is going to be hard.

“Well Rey knows now, so. Hi, you had a good day?” Froy asks, looking around to see if he could slip his face shield off, but there’s a lot of activity, so he better not.

Richard perks up. “Yeah, I did. The script is like, soooooo good,” Richard says, leaning his head way back like he does when he’s excited. “It’s dark. There’s travel, twists all over. Really smart. It’s gonna be so good, I think. Hard, but good,” Richard says, chews on his lip and leans forward to crush out his cigarette.

Froy watches him, so happy he’s so happy. “That sounds badass babe. You’re gonna kill it, I am quite confident in that.”

“Mmm, I figure I’ll phone it in until you get here with me, and _then_ I’m gonna kill it,” Richard says sweetly, his eyelashes falling down over his cheeks.

“Nah, that’s bullshit. Kill it for me. I’ll be there soon,” Froy says, tilting his head and looking at him dreamily. Some PA’s and a few of the camera crew walk by and wave at him vaguely, then he hears the gravelly sound of golf carts pulling up. “Hey I think things are getting going here. I should go—”

“Yeah, yeah, go do your thing,” Richard says quickly as Froy starts to get moving. “Gonna go see another house this afternoon. I’ll text you.”

“Gotta keep me in nice houses,” Froy laughs, starting to walk over and meet the others.

“That I do. A manor befitting your manner, my liege,” Richard says with a wink. “Love you. Have a good day.”

“Fuck I love you,” Froy whispers, bringing the phone a little closer to his face, like that will close the distance. “Talk to you tonight,” he adds, swallowing the longing he feels.

“Mmm hmmm,” Richard hums, and sighs. “Bye, love.” He disconnects first, so Froy doesn’t have to.

**Day Three**

“I’m up.”

“Ok good I’m falling asleep on the couch.”

“Go get in bed, love.”

“I am. Going now.”

“You don’t have to stay up to wake me up, sweetheart.”

“No I know but I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You in bed?”

“Yeah. Empty. Miss you.”

“I know. Love you.”

“Love you. Sweet...sweet day.”

“Fuck, love you. Night Froy.”

“Night.”

**Day Four**

Froy wakes up confused, looks around for a minute to try to figure out if it’s late or early from the dull light filtering through his blinds. He picks up his phone and sees that it’s after 9, and almost goes into a panic before remembering that it’s his day off.

“Oh thank god,” he flops back on his pillow, phone held over his head. There are four texts from Richard and one photo. It looks like...he squints one eye, slides his thumb to open it up. Yeah, it’s definitely skin. He sits up on his elbows a little bit, turns his phone one way and then the other. It’s...a hip? Torso? Froy cocks his head and flicks into the message.

_Look who finally showed up again_

Froy shakes his head, still trying to fully wake up, and looks at the photo again. He finally figures out which way the pic goes, and can see the slight hint of shadow and light outlining the oblique muscle, wrapping over the top of Richard’s hip and dipping toward his stomach. 

_awwww I remember that guy,_ Froy types back, adding a _yum_ tongue emoji for good measure.

 _He’s elusive. Hey you’re awake,_ Richard writes him and before Froy can even type anything back his phone rings with a video call.

“Good mornin’, gorgeous,” Richard says as they connect and Froy drops back onto the pillows, smiling from ear to ear.

“Hey handsome, lucky you called, my boyfriend’s not home,” Froy says, biting his lip and tapping at the phone screen, touching Richard’s mouth through the wireless and glass.

“Ooh really. You got some sleep, I can tell. Perky,” Richard says and Froy watches him settle down into a heavy arm chair next to the bed. He doesn’t recognize any of the furniture.

“I did, like ten hours. Amazing. Let me see that bedroom you’re in, I don’t even know what it looks like,” Froy asks, curious suddenly.

Richard makes a sort of squawking sound but humors him by quickly moving the camera in a semi-circle around the room. “ _Froy..._ fine. It’s just another English room in another English flat. You want to inspect the furnishings or you want to touch cocks?” 

“Oh, shit, definitely cocks,” Froy says, excitedly pushing up on his elbows again and propping his phone on a pillow. He runs a hand down his body over his shorts where he’s already been semi-hard since he woke up.

“Tha’s what I thought,” Richard says, getting himself similarly situated with his phone propped on something so that Froy can see his face, his neck, part of his chest. “I miss you,” Richard says, rubbing a hand down his chest and lifting a corner of his t-shirt.

Froy does the same, brushes his fingers across the low dip of his belly, the trail of dark hair there. “I miss you so much, fuck,” he says, breathing in. “Let me see that muscle you found,” he says.

Richard grins and pulls his shirt all the way up. “Look at that...look at this!” He says, crunching up a little so his abs flex and tighten, the rows of abdominal muscle neatly defined.

Froy lets out a slow whistle. “Hot. You’re so hot, babe,” he says, licking his lips.

“Yeah?” Richard says, stretches up straight so his stomach flattens again, drags his hand down to his pants. “Like that?” he says, rubbing his hand over the ridges of his belly into the coarse hair above his groin, then going straight for his cock.

Froy inhales sharply, squirms and shoves his own hand down his shorts too. “Fuck...take your pants off.”

“Yeah, goin’,” Richard says and shimmies them down over his hips, tilts himself on a pillow so Froy can see all of him. He takes himself in his hand, strokes thoughtfully. “You like it? You miss me?” Richard says.

Froy nods, licks his lips and strokes himself too. “Yeah. Miss you. Miss your cock,” he says, working his hand over his own.

“What do you wannae do with it?” Richard groans a little, thrusts up in his hand.

Froy growls and grinds his teeth. “Put my mouth on it. Fucking...on my knees. Feed it to me. Hold my face—”

“Fuuuuck, that’s dirty...you...yeah you look good with my cock in your mouth, fuck. Take it, dirty boy,” Richard says, spits on his hand a little and squeezes the head of his dick, looking right at Froy.

“Yeah...hold my head and fuck my face…you love that don’t you,” Froy gasps out.

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” Richard orders and Froy doesn’t miss a beat. He brings his free hand up, holding three fingers together and licking them. 

“Like this?” he asks innocently, curling his tongue around them and then flicking it between them, holding eye contact the whole time. 

“Ohhh, that was dirty. Get them wet, yeah, put them in...yeah, fuck you look so good,” Richard says as Froy starts to fuck the fingers in and out of his mouth. Richard fists his strong hand over his cock, watching him. “You like that don’t ye. Your dirty mouth all full, look at you,” Richard says and Froy whines around the flesh in his mouth. 

Froy nods excitedly, squeezes his cock to slick some of the wetness all over the head and shaft. He strokes his hand over himself, quick and light, as he thrusts in and out of his own mouth, moaning as he does. Just going through the motion of this is working for him, honestly, and fast. 

“Yeah, like that...yeah….ok now stop, just suck…” Froy does it, pulling his lips into a tight circle around his fingers, hollowing his cheeks. “Yes, just suck, suck, oh god...” he trails off, just high breathy sounds and the slick of his hand until he hitches his hips still, and Froy watches him come, quick hard spurts onto his taut abs. 

Richard shudders and Froy whimpers around his fingers, dripping with spit now. “Take that hand...get it down under your balls. Can ye reach?” Richard asks, catching his breath and watching Froy with such care, such reverence for Froy getting off. 

“I can reach a couple, yeah,” Froy says, dropping his wet fingers down to feel underneath himself, pulling his cock and balls to the side so he can just about touch his hole. He looks up at Richard, pleadingly. 

“Finger yourself, pretend it’s me,” Richard says, his voice raspy from coming. 

“I can’t do it that well,” Froy says, gnawing on his lip and contorting his wrist to try, an angle, a fingertip, anything. 

“Mmmm, gonna have to invest in some toys for you,” Richard says thoughtfully, leaning in closer as if to better help Froy in his current predicament. 

Froy grunts a little, licks his lips and shakes his head. “Don’t want toys...want you,” he says, breathy as he manages to get one finger at enough of an angle to rub, tease at his rim. 

“Mmmm, I know,” Richard hums. “Do that now...touch yourself...like I’m doin’ it,” he says, deep and throaty. 

“Love your fingers,” Froy says, reaching and stretching. “They’re thick...they’re shaped just right,” Froy says, trying for just a little deeper. 

“Love fingering you...you feel so good,” Richard says. and that gives him a little push. Two fingertips slide in to the first knuckle and Froy gasps, pushes with his ass muscles to grind onto them. “There ye go...fuck yourself for me...you’re so good,” Richard purrs and Froy does it, mouth hanging open and head back, his hand thrumming over his cock. He’ll never hit his prostate this way but it feels _so_ good. 

“Love your fingers...love you inside me...yeah, god, I’m gonna—“

“Yes sweetheart come, come for me let me see,” Richard says just in time and Froy bites his lip, thrusts onto his fingers and twists the head of his cock, his belly trembling, his come pulsing through the tight circle of his hand while Richard coos, praises, tells him he loves him over and over. 

Froy melts, muscles slack all over, back into his bed sheets. 

“Feel good?” Richard says after a moment, quietly. 

Froy nods against his pillow. “Not a bad way to start the day.”

“I’m supposed to get ready and go to dinner,” Richard says absently, and Froy can sense him moving around on the other end of the phone, probably going outside for a cigarette. 

Froy sighs, turns his neck carefully to look at Richard again. “I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

Richard looks at him so softly, his face still relaxed from bliss while he brings a cigarette to his lips and lights it. Froy loves that face. 

“Well,” Richard says, after a drag. “Now you have the whole day ahead of you.”

Froy frets about that, the sudden anxiety of a whole day, a whole weekend, and all the weeks ahead, unfurling in front of him. 

Richard knows him too well, notices his mood drop. 

“Hey. Sorry. Ok what would _you_ like to do with your day off?” he asks gently, redirecting him. 

Froy shrugs, smiles a little sadly. “I’ll go see my mom and hang out with Henry, maybe. But first...coffee,” he says, perking himself up.

“Good. Sounds good,” Richard says, a curl of smoke flicking at his lip. Froy is jealous of the smoke.

“Wait, are you going out to dinner?” Froy asks suddenly, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

“Ahh, no it’s...some kinda underground supper club...speakeasy type thing. Cheryl swears it’s safe. All outside, no one can go in together, I dunno. Sounds exhausting, honestly,” Richard says cooly, obviously trying to downplay that he’s going _out,_ to do a thing, with _people,_ in the city.

“I’m sure if Cheryl knows about it, it’s cool. Just be safe.” Froy rolls over on his arm, pushing up so he can take the phone with him to the kitchen. He filled the water and the coffee pods yesterday, so now, just has to stick a cup underneath and push one button. “God bless this machine,” he yawns, leaning against the counter. 

Richard is finished with his smoke, closing a door behind him and going inside. “Here’s the living room,” he says, disinterestedly showing Froy from room to room. “There’s the same exact Ikea table and cabinets the last house had...there’s no stags in the kitchen. Just this creepy owl in the window box…” Richard shows him the fake owl perched on the decorative iron bars over the kitchen window. Froy laughs and gets the oat milk out for his coffee.

“Owls are cool. She’s like a guardian...keeping you safe at night for me,” Froy says, spinning on his foot when his coffee hisses that it’s finished. “Ahhhhh, sweet, sweet nectar of life,” he says, swirling some milk to mingle with the crema on top.

“Take a sip so I can see your coffee face. Almost better than your orgasm face,” Richard grins. 

Froy scowls in mild offense, but holds the phone out at arm’s length for Richard to get the most perfectly framed shot of his first, blissful sip of coffee.

“Perfection,” Froy declares, holding his cup out to Richard’s smiling face. “ _Slàinte mhath,_ ” he says to his second sip, much to Richard’s delight. He has practiced his pronunciation a _lot._

“You’re so good. How’d I get so lucky?” Richard muses, and now they’re just being sappy. Froy takes his cup to his favorite corner of the couch and sits with it, watches Richard just gazing back at him.

“I don’t know. How did I?”

**Day Seven**

_Ahhhhh I love that song. You’re so lovely. So good to me. I don’t deserve you._

**_you absolutely deserve me_ **

_In a pre-pro tlk later? x_

**_ok but what r u wearing_ **

_xo_

**_oh ur wearing black jeans n a black tshirt nm lol_ **

_x ilu talk later_

🙄

_Ok I can call you now_

_..._

_Froy?_

**_busy, few hours_ **

🙄

**_i’m in wardrobe!_ **

_Well. What are you wearing? xo_

**Day Nine**

Froy drops a small armload of packages he picked up off the porch, precariously piled in one arm while he held his takeout order and his keys in the other hand so he could let himself in. He lays out his to-go boxes, opens one and grabs a big bite of Greek fries to shove in his mouth right away. He chews while he goes to get a plate for his salad, and a glass of wine, and flops back down at the table, exhausted from the day. 

He plows through half the Greek fries and a few big bites of salad before looking over at the boxes. Two are orders he was expecting, some vitamins and some stuff for his face. 

There is another nondescript package, about the size of a box of Valentine’s chocolates, that he wasn’t. The vendor’s name on the return address says _Lovehoney,_ so yeah, sounds like sweets, maybe in advance of their anniversary. Richard knows me so well, he thinks.

He shoves some more fries in his mouth and zips his car key along the sealed edge of the package to open it.

Then he almost chokes.

He nudges the box lid shut while he finishes coughing and chewing and swallowing his fries...cracks it open an inch or so to look at it again.

“Richard.... _jesus,"_ he says under his breath, picking up his wine glass and taking a large sip. He flips the box lid open again and takes a closer look.

There are two of them inside. One not so long, slim, elegantly tapered, with handles on the sides that Froy assumes are for his fingers. The other one is...daunting, if he’s being honest. Thicker, with a sharp bend that looks dangerous, and bulges that are meant to be anatomical, he supposes. He feels his cheeks flushing furiously, so he takes a selfie and texts it to Richard, an honest reaction to the moment. 

_BABE_

_OMG_

_BABE! What if my dad came by and picked up my packages! Omg…_

_The small one looks ok but i’m not sure what you had in mind with the other one,_ he texts, accompanied by the shocked and wide-eyed emoji.

It’s 1am in London, and Richard is not going to respond. 

Froy bites at the edge of his nail. Is he supposed to wait until they’re on the phone? That seems like a lot to...coordinate. He looks back and forth between the toys and his salad. Richard knows he’s a perfectionist and he wouldn’t want him to be anxious about it...he would want him to practice first, right?

“Yeah, you would,” Froy finally says to himself, decisively, before he closes his food boxes and snatches up the package containing his new toys.

* * *

He needs a shower after work anyway so that seems like the logical place to try, where his muscles are warm and limber and everything’s nice and...soapy. He takes the smaller toy out of its box and brings it with him, along with a small pump bottle of lube they used to keep in there next to the shampoo. Froy had put away under the sink so it didn’t remind him every day that shower sex with Richard was now temporarily on hiatus.

He gets the water hot and steamy, rinses the long day and the last traces of makeup off himself, shampoos his hair. While he washes his body he cleans the toy too, with the same expensive body wash. It smells like Richard, like himself, like the two of them together. 

He relaxes, softens at his knees a little, leans his head against the tile wall of the shower, thinking about mornings spent pressed right here: his chest to the wall and Richard snug up behind him, or his back on the tile and Richard carefully knelt in front of him, sucking with hollowed cheeks, looking up at Froy with heavy droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. He groans and touches his cock lightly, reaches with his other soapy hand to touch between his cheeks. 

It’s easy, yielding under his own touch, first a fingertip and then the toy, a quick palmful of lube slicked over it to help ease the way. 

He’s a bit dubious at first because the angle seems weird, now that he’s trying it. But he figures out he can change his grip to the little handle in the front or the back, and that lets him shift just right so that the first few inches slide right in. Once that’s done and he catches his breath, the design makes it almost too easy to manipulate to his liking, to slide it in a little more, back, play, here and there until he hits himself in the exact, elusive spot he has never been able to reach on his own.

And holy _shit._ Froy sees fireworks behind his eyes when he does. 

He bends a little more at the knees and wraps his thumb through one of the holes. He wraps his other hand around his cock, and relies on the wall to keep him from falling. He only needs to rock back and forth between his hands, so easy and so pleasurable he gets lost in it. He glides right along with it, bites down on his bottom lip and whines, the sound coming out of his chest echoing in his ears like someone else’s voice. 

His orgasm is _quick_ slow quick, _startling_ really, buckling his knees and pulsing out of him, gasping as he rides it for what feels like _forever,_ shaking and spilling in the hot rush of water down the shower drain.

His toes curl and he has to sink his weight back a little, settling himself on his heels until he can reach out and grip the porcelain soap holder for support. His mouth hangs open under the shower and he looks up into the spray, not trusting his balance to linger here while he recovers, while his muscles unclench enough to remove the toy. He tests his legs by straightening his knees, rinses his wet hair back off his face once more and carefully turns off the water. He stands there dripping a moment, trying to even out his breathing. 

When he feels steady on his feet, he opens the shower door and carefully steps out. He can feel the toy nestled inside him when he moves, but it’s surprisingly comfortable. He reaches for his clean towel and wraps himself up in it, goes to the mirror and puts a quick layer of Rey-approved nighttime skin stuff on his face.

When he finally gets to bed, he lays down on his side, facing where his phone plugs in. He pulls one knee up to his chest, leg splayed behind himself, and curiously brings one hand around the back of his thigh to touch. When the head of the toy bumps against his insides, he feels a quiver and a little jolt along his nervous system, like an aftershock. His neck curls and he tucks his face into his pillow, touches it again and gasps. His cock jumps from the stimulation this time, and he mutters into the bed, “fuck…”

Then he picks up his phone.

_It’s been like 20 mins and i think i’m still coming...i love you so much omg_

He sends the text and sets his phone down. His hand lingers near his ass, gently tapping every now and then just to feel the sensation, before his hand slides off his thigh and he falls asleep.

* * *

Froy’s dreaming about getting fucked when his 1am alarm goes off. He groans at the annoyance of the bubbly, digital sound disturbing him, then again when he realizes his cock is hard again, crushed underneath him between his stomach and the mattress. He tries to roll over off of it and is reminded, swiftly, that he fell asleep with an ergonomic sex toy inside, and it did not get the memo about going to sleep. 

He whimpers a little as he adjusts to too many sensations at once, and somehow manages to pick up his phone, shut the stupid alarm beeping off, and thumb over his Favorites to dial Richard before he blacks out from the stimulation.

Richard picks up after what feels like ages, and starts right in. “You naughty boy. Thought you might wait for me to—” 

“It’s still in me. I fell asleep, and I’m rock hard, don’t tease me,” Froy practically begs, holding the phone to one ear and pushing up onto his knees a little. 

“Oh my god,” Richard breathes out into the phone, and if Froy thinks he detects even a hint of a laugh in his voice, he’s going to...well, he’s going to be mad and they’re going to have words, but right now he has other problems to deal with. 

“Do not make fun of me,” Froy says, sternly but also just barely awake, somewhere in the groggy, horny space between realms. 

“My love I would never...you got your hand on your cock?” Richard says, the edge of amusement gone from his voice.

Froy nods furiously, burrows the top of his head into the pillow. “Yeah, yeah I’m already, oh god I’m so hard, babe,” Froy says, desperate. He listens to Richard breathing, wonders… “Are you hard for me too? Did you wake up and—”

“I’m always hard for you, fuck, Froy. Soon as I heard you like this...I’ve got my hand on my cock too,” Richard purrs, thick and sweet. 

Froy rolls against the sheets, tilts his hips and ass up. “Yeah, fucking...fuck, babe, I want you,” Froy says. He can’t move his other arm but he can kind of squeeze his butt muscles enough to engage the toy again, and keep his thighs spread to make room for his hand and his cock at the same time.

“Wish you were doing this...wish you were, ahhh—” Froy loses his breath and his words, just tiny dry gasping sounds from the back of his throat as another orgasm builds from somewhere in the base of his spine and pulls up, up and through him. 

He can hear Richard grunt and growl in his ear, hear the sense of movement as he strokes himself too, too far away for him to see and smell and taste. “Babe...I’m...oh god…” Froy whines and he hears Richard whimper in response.

“You’re gonna come so hard, oh my sweet babe. Would do _anything_ to see this happen. Anythin'...fuck, Froy, I’m gonna—” 

“Oh god, oh god, oh fuck—” Froy yells over him, everything rushing through him, white noise deafening him like a wave he’s cresting. He shakes and falls over the edge.

“So good...let go…” Richard breathes over the phone and Froy tries to listen, tries to unfurl his muscles and just let the sensation take him, coming and coming, panting and gasping for air, the wave breaking through him. 

“It won’t stop...oh god,” Froy cries out because it feels true, it feels like he’s going to come forever. 

“Fuck...love you...just go with it, I’m right here,” Richard says in his ear and his eyes fall shut, his hand finally slipping away from his cock, covered in come, the bed a mess, his hips still undulating vaguely on their own power as the orgasm finally subsides, the tide going out.

Froy is still. Richard is quiet, but there. 

“Alright?” Richard finally asks. 

Froy breathes in, breathes out.

“Mmmm...mmm hmmm.” Froy hears the hum from his throat but isn’t entirely aware of making it. He’s fine. “Mmm fine.”

Richard laughs, a soft, sweet sound. “Well. Good mornin’ tae me.”

“I don’t know what just happened,” Froy says, licking his lips slowly. A dim light from the hallway helps him start to focus his eyes.

“Oh I’ve got a pretty good idea,” Richard snickers. “Sorry I missed that one, to be honest.”

“Yeah....I...whoa. I don’t know what just happened,” Froy repeats himself, his brain tells him.

Richard laughs softly. “You’re gonna be ok. I am gonna need you to recreate that one for me in person one day.”

Froy rolls out his shoulders, rolls his head back and forth on the bed to loosen his neck. He turns, ever so carefully, onto his side and out of the most soaked part of the bed. “I think that was...that was like, god tier. I don’t know if that one comes around...so to speak,” Froy falls into the pillow, Richard’s side of the bed, laughing lightly at himself, at them.

“Well it won’t be for lack of me tryin’. Promise ye that,” Richard says, and Froy can hear him stretch, yawn from his chest.

“Did you...shit, sorry,” Froy says, full on laughing, alone in the dim, quiet night. 

“Oh, yeah, ‘course love. Don’t worry about me, I did alright. You saw god, sounds like,” Richard says. 

“I love you so fucking much. And I gotta...get this thing out,” Froy says, grimacing a bit as he rearranges his arms, the phone, seeing what kind of angle he can get.

“Oh, hell, yes get it out, do it quick right now, just don’t think about it—”

“Ahhhhhhhh, fuck,” Froy says, his voice pitching up and his muscles trying to clench and freeze up but he tricks his body, pushes down and pulls and thank _god,_ slips the thing free. 

“Done?” Richard asks soothingly.

“Done,” Froy assures. He tosses the thing onto Richard’s now unused bedside table, promises himself he’ll clean it off first thing in the morning. “I’m wrecked,” he says, mindlessly lolling around on Richard’s pillow. If he concentrates and closes his eyes, he can still smell him.

“Go back to sleep. I’m up. Ye did so, so good, Froy. The best. I love you so much,” Richard says and Froy can see him, can feel him so perfectly, feel the soft burr on the way Richard says his name, the way it catches at his heart, every single time.

“Love you. I’m gonna...melt into the bed now.”

“Alright. Do that. Talk to ye soon. Night, love.”

“Night.”

**Day Eleven**

“You ready?”

“I am...ready.” Froy says emphatically, bouncing onto the couch. “I have all my trash favorites...got Takis, got Red Vines, got the neon green Chromatica Oreos, thank you mom.”

Richard grumbles. “I have...dry roasted almonds and a...non-alcoholic beer. What the _fuck.”_

“You’ve made your choices, Madden,” Froy smirks, pops open the cap on his Mexican Coke.

“Hey!” Richard squawks at him. “Wait til you’re 34. I’m gonna give you so much shit.”

“Mmm hmm,” Froy ignores him, but inside feels a little thrum of _something_ at the idea of him, of them, of a future that long, and that far in the distance. He smiles to himself, picks up the remote. “Ok, what episode are we on?”

“We are on...season two, episode four,” Richard says, crunching on an almond in his ear.

“ _Safe Room_?” Froy checks.

“Aye. Ready?”

“Super ready. Three, two, one…play,” Froy says, pressing the button and tossing the remote beside him.

“I get nervous every time Kendall goes out onto a roof,” Richard says airily in his ear.

“Fuck, me too. God, Jeremy Strong...look at his face.”

“I know. Bloody brilliant.” _Crunch, crunch._

“Shiv...I love you Shiv, I’m rooting for you,” Froy says when the scene changes. 

“Matthew’s so bloody good too. Wish I had that American accent,” Richard jokes at his own expense, and Froy laughs.

“I gave you a months-long immersive course. If you can’t speak Texas now, I don’t know what to tell you,” Froy teases him, eats a Taki, dusting neon red chili powder off his leg.

“Aye, I’m hopeless. Ahhh even this fucking theme music gets me,” Richard says, and Froy can hear him shifting, probably lounging longways, settling in to watch.

“Sooo good. Makes me hard,” Froy says offhandedly. 

“Ayy, none of that. It’s TV time.”

“Yeah yeah, phone sex is later,” Froy says, dropping his voice in a fake, sultry tone, like a bad porn actor.

“Phone sex is _literally_ any time but we have to pause the show,” Richard says as the credits music clangs on in jarring, minor key chords. “Hey, you gonna try the big one?” he adds, a hopeful afterthought.

Froy laughs on a Taki. “Hell no. That one must be for you, I think.”

“For me?” Richard yelps, indignantly. 

“I’m not trying that thing by myself! That one has your name on it, size queen,” Froy sasses him, just because he can.

Richard gasps, his voice going way up high and then dissolving into giggles. “How dare ye! You wait ‘til we get together again, I’ll show you what—”

“Shhh show’s starting.’ 

**Day Fourteen**

“I was really good today,” Froy says, staring up at the ceiling inside his trailer. He’s been here since it was the dark of morning, and now with another winter storm creeping grey across the Texas sky, it’s almost dark again.

“Yeah?” Richard says on the other end. He’s in bed, his head already heavy in his pillow. Froy can tell by the slight change in the way his voice sounds.

“Yeah. It was a hard scene. You know, that last one we read together.”

“Oh, aye, that one. ‘Twas rough. I bet you were grand.”

Froy’s eyes are heavy, sore around the outer corners, from makeup, lights, emoting, tears. Maybe he’ll just nap here a while. His throat aches from delivering bitter dialogue, over and over again.

“Is it easier yet?” he asks, his lip twitching. He’s just so tired.

Richard sighs in London, the sound crystal clear. “No, not really.”

“But we’re gonna make it, right?” Froy asks, his voice almost slipping away from him.

“Absolutely,” Richard says. 


End file.
